Scarlet Snow
by Cliara Aedai
Summary: A series of one-shots about our favourite Mentalist characters, updated daily in sequences. Each prompt has been written by both myself and 'thetyger' in two seperate stories, with the goal of seeing how much they differ. Some will be funny, others will be sad, so enjoy! Check out Red Letter by thetyger for the other version.
1. Break

**A/N ****Okay, so welcome to Scarlet Snow, a new story made up of one-shots that centre on The Mentalist. So to explain how this works, basically my friend 'thetyger' and I have decided to start a series of prompt inspired one-shots. Each of us randomly chose 10 words, and then we put them together and started writing our stories. The idea is to see how different our ideas are from the same word. The word limit is 500, and we will be posting a story a day until the twenty prompts are up. Some will be sad and others funny, so there is variety for everyone. Hers are under the story name 'Red Letter' if you would like to read and compare! Enjoy... (and if you feel like it, reviews are welcome too!)**

**Disclaimer: ****Never have and never will own The Mentalist! (...except on DVD)**

* * *

**Break**

It had been three days since he had passed, three days since she was told that his heart had finally given out on him. Three days since she had broken down in front of the entire team as the caller told her the news, and three days since she had dragged herself home to submerge herself in guilt. It had been three days since Grace realised that life would never be the same.

And in these three days she had realised something; while it was all very well to grieve over the loss of the closest man in the world to her, it was also incredibly selfish. She needed to remember him happily, the good memories of her childhood and adulthood that she had spent with him.

So it had been with a heavy heart that Grace had seated herself in her small attic (which she loved to retreat to) to write the speech for his funeral in a happy and enlightening manner. She refused to get up and speak to a hundred people, who barely knew the man he was, and make them cry with sappy stories and dedications. No, she wanted to make them laugh and fill them with images of a joyous and free-spirited man who will live forever through the impact he made in the world. She wanted what _he_ would have wanted; happiness.

But happiness was so hard to locate and so easy to break.

And this rule held true as she opened the first box she saw; only to find a bear that he had given her when she was six. At such a tender age, it had meant the world to her, and brought her a happiness she could not explain.

But now, the memories associated with it broke her heart.

It had been three days since Grace had lost her father.


	2. Rythmic

**Rhythmic**

Jane was a proud, perceptive individual; he noticed what colours people preferred to wear, what foods they were not fond of, their favourite perfumes and even the pace of their steps. Most people were interesting, and their moods strongly reflected in the way that they went about their lives. Jane could learn a lot from these changes, and he prided himself in knowing exactly how everyone's day was relaying just by watching them.

But Lisbon was the exception to his rule.

As he had noticed (with utter dismay), Lisbon was incredibly boring, monotonous and basically _predictable!_ Every morning she arrived at 8am, she made her black tea with half a scoop of sugar, walked briskly to her office and began to fill out any paperwork that was neatly arranged on the left of her desk (ordered by importance). She only used black ball-point pens, her desktop background was plain black and she always ate lunch (a ham and salad sandwich) at one o'clock. And the worst part? No matter what her mood, the routine stayed the same.

It was utterly _infuriating! _

So it really came as no surprise to anyone who had been on the tail end of his complaints that Jane decided to do something about it. And it was also no surprise to anyone who knew Lisbon that she did not accept his actions…at all.

"Jane! What did you do?!" Lisbon yelled as she stomped over to his couch in fury. Jane let a smug smile grace his face as he lazily opened his eyes to greet her.

"Nothing Lisbon, I just felt that you needed to…spice up your morning routine." He said quietly, immediately knowing what she was referring to.

"Spice up my morning routine! Jane! You have _ruined_ my morning routine!" She yelled before going off into long rant. "You changed my tea, so that instead of the calm and relaxing black tea that I need of a morning, I had to drink Cranberry and Pomegranate tea! Do you know how strong it is? Then you changed my pens to blue, so that today's work doesn't match yesterday's now-" Jane widened his eyes in fake horror "-and my desktop background is of birds! Birds, Jane! This is a work computer and now it has colourful birds on it!" She screeched, hands waving wildly in the air.

"Ah, my dear Lisbon, a wise man by the name of Bruce Barton once said 'Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, _change_- this is the rhythm of living.' Unfortunately, your predictable and simplistic routine did not live up to this…so I altered it for you!"

Her returning glare was frightening, and sent involuntary shivers up Jane's spine.

However, the next morning Jane deemed the entire 'trial' worthwhile (even after enduring an entire day of Lisbon's anger and glares) as he caught the scent of Cranberry and Pomegranate coming from Lisbon's office, the steaming mug clearly in view beside her busy frame.


	3. Brother

**A/N**** Thanks for the support guys! This is really fun... So a bit of an odd one here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

**Brother**

"Hey Cho?" asked Rigsby, breaking the silence as the two of them prowled the forest for signs of a cabin. They were looking for a girl who had been abducted three days ago and allegedly being held in a cabin around here, but so far they had found no signs proving that theory.

Cho simply grunted in response, his eyes darting quickly through the forest.

"Well" he began, trudging heavily through leaves "you know how we are good mates right? Basically brothers really… What's that saying again? Brothers from different mothers? Something like that… Anyway, I can tell you anything, right?"

Cho merely glanced up at him.

Rigsby took this as confirmation. "Well, you see I have this little…problem." He looked at Cho, who was staring ahead adamantly. Rigsby briefly wondered if he was even listening to him.

"I really like this girl." He admitted, blushing slightly. "And I know I sound like a hormonal teenage boy, but I don't know what to do. She is so lovely and strong willed-but at the same time, she is so unavailable." He ranted, looking down at his feet. "And, while I trust you and everything, I don't really think I can tell you who she is. That would be inappropriate. But at the same time, I don't know what to _do!"_ Rigsby finished, sighing in frustration.

Cho continued staring straight ahead.

"Dammit Cho! I need your advice!" Rigsby snapped.

Cho did not respond how Rigsby would have expected.

"Rigsby, get down!" He shouted loudly as the startling sound of gunshots abused the silence. Cho ducked behind a tree as Rigsby dropped to the ground, rolling beside a bush.

Cho's gun appeared from behind the tree, rapidly firing off shots in the correct general direction. Rigsby added to the assault, and it seemed as though at least one of their bullets was successful as a grunt of pain sounded out, followed by the loud thump of a falling body. More bullets were still being fired, however, and it seemed as though there was more than one assailant. But after another minute of assault, the frantic scampering of feet sounded out before silence was once again present. The agents stayed in their positions for a few moments, before venturing out.

Cho quickly went to check the fallen criminal, while Rigsby stood in shock. It had been so _close_, and he had been totally unprepared. Without Cho there to warn him, Rigsby had no doubt that he would have been shot, and probably killed.

As Cho came back over, muttering about a dead man, Rigsby looked at him with sincerity.

"Thanks man." He muttered, unsure what else to add.

"Don't worry about it, that's what brothers are for right? And I think that's the cabin over there." He said, taking the lead. Rigsby made to follow when Cho turned back around.

"And I think you should just go for it with Van Pelt, it's pretty obvious you like her."

Rigsby stared after him in shock.


	4. Persuasion

**A/N ****Ah! I am so sorry that this wasn't up yesterday! I was doing the 40hr famine and gave up technology and food so couldn't use the computer! My sister was going to upload it for me but that did not go as planned...Sorry everyone! So tonight, I have two for you! Please review!**

**Persuasion**

"Where were you on the night of June 17th at 6pm?"

"At home, alone." The man grunted in response to Lisbon's question. He had tattoos down one side of his arm, was nearing 6 feet tall and sported prominent muscles, each factor of which attributed to his overall image of assertiveness and anger.

"Doing what?" Jane enquired rudely, earning a glare from Lisbon.

"What do you mean?" The suspect retorted.

"I mean, were you eating ice cream and watching chic flicks with your poodle, or were you secretly cheating on your wife with your lovely co-worker who has now turned up dead?" Jane said in a tone that suggested they were merely talking of the weather.

The suspect's sudden change in demeanour, however, made it evident that they were not, indeed, talking of the weather.

"What-"He snarled "are you implying?"

"Well I would think that what I am implying would be perfectly clear and-"

"Shut up!" The man shouted suddenly, standing up and towering over Jane.

"I love my wife! She is beautiful and peaceful and exactly what I need in my life! Don't you _dare_ try to suggest otherwise." The furious suspect was now centimetres away from Jane, heavily breathing down upon the smaller man and glaring at him with a startling intensity.

Jane, to his credit, was looking slightly hesitant and doubtful about what he had said. Seemingly coming to the conclusion that this man very well could beat him to a pulp if he wished, Jane wisely backed down.

"Hm. Yes, I see. Well, sorry for the misunderstanding kind sir. I, uh, have no doubt that you love your wife very much. Hm, yes. Well, we are done with the questions, just sit tight in here and another agent will be with you shortly. Hm, yes, well goodbye now." And Jane stood up to quickly make his way out of the door, an unintentional breathe of relief escaping him.

Unfortunately, Lisbon had followed him out and heard his sigh.

"So…" She began with a smug smile "did that lovely suspect scare you Jane?" She asked innocently, looking up at him. He grimaced.

"Not in the slightest." He replied, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh?"

"Oh."

There was a heavy silence.

"Ok, so I admit, his size and attitude and ability to kill me quite easily might have been a _little…_persuasive."

"Persuasive?" Lisbon giggled.

"Yes, Lisbon, _persuasive._"


	5. Quote

**A/N ****The second installment for today. Enjoy! (It's a tad weird...ok, very weird)**

**Quote**

The pair walked into the hall apprehensively, unsure of what to expect from this large gathering of people. They knew what everyone was here for, and they knew most would be dressed up (at least to some extent). This assumption was not wrong.

Jane and Lisbon walked into a room of 1,000 Harry Potters.

At first, Lisbon was quite confronted, but she managed to regain her composure quickly. Jane, on the other hand, had seemed to develop a rather lengthy coughing fit that earned a sharp glare from Lisbon.

"Be professional" she muttered before rolling back her shoulders and heading straight to the three suspects they were here for.

"Yes ma'am." He mock saluted, before exaggeratedly copying her actions and stalking forwards.

They were both here to question three men who may have been involved in the murder of Nancy Harris, a middle aged lady who helped run these monthly get-togethers of Harry Potter lovers. Lisbon had thought it would be easy, Jane had disagreed.

"What do you mean you won't answer my questions? I do not have the patience for this!" She growled in anger. But none of the men were fazed.

"We know our rights; now please, would you leave us alone? We are in the middle of a questionnaire." The tallest one stated, fingering his wand as though it were a weapon. Jane noticed Lisbon's rising fury and decided to take it from there.

"Good evening chaps. My name is Patrick, and I am with Agent Lisbon here. Listen, she is not in a great mood today, slightly annoyed that she has to work and can't be a part of this lovely group, so it is in my best interests to make this easy for her. How about it; you ask me the ten hardest Harry Potter questions you can think of, and if I answer them all correctly, you guys answer one question for us. Deal?"

The eyes of shortest of the three glowed in excitement at the prospect.

"Deal"

* * *

"Two more to go!" Jane cheered as he downed his last sip of Butterbeer, clapping one man on the back.

"Fine." The short one snapped. "Get ready; what is the last sentence of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?"

Jane pretended to think. "'As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come…and he would have to meet it when it did.'"

"Damnit!" Shorty shouted in anger. "Who said 'I'm about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am.'?" He snapped loudly.

"Stan Shunpike." Jane said smugly, smiling innocently at him as he jumped out of his seat in fury before loudly storming to the bathroom.

"Ok, before I go, time for you to pay up." Jane said, looking back at the remaining two suspects. "Did you kill Nancy Harris?"

"No."

"OK, you're telling the truth, and I already know shorty didn't. Bye boys, hope to play again soon!" Jane waved, before stalking off with his head held high. Lisbon just sighed in exasperation.


	6. Reset

**A/N ****Thanks for the follows and reviews! I hope you enjoy this one!**

**Reset**

The old man sat on the seats in front of the bus stop, agonising over the confusion of the device before him. It was apparently an iPhone, a gift from his daughter, but in actuality it was a complicated chunk of expensive metal. Why anyone would want such an idiotic device made no sense to him, but the high value of it made him persevere, for his daughter.

For one thing, the button at the top did two things. If you just pressed it for a second, it made the screen black (completely pointless, as you can't see anything), but then, if you held it longer, it turned the blasted thing off. What he didn't understand though was why it asked permission to turn off first? Because honestly, if you are going to hold the button for that long, it is pretty obvious that you want the stupid thing off!

He also detested apps with a fiery passion. Ok, so the theory of being able to play games on a tiny object was interesting, however it just wasn't realistic! How did the people who created the iPhone expect people to be able to dodge obstacles when his finger was half the size of the screen? It was just silly.

And continuing on the apps, the old man had one particular hate; subway surfer. Not only was it impossible and harmful to dignity, it was encouraging suicide! Who in their right mind would create a game with the object of darting back and forth between trains with the sole purpose of collecting worthless money? Someone must have been drinking a few too many…

And so his inner ramblings brought him back to the present, where he stared angrily at the screen before him. A small message (in size 4 font) was telling him to reset the iPhone.

Reset!

How in Mickey's name was he expected to do that?

So the old man made an executive decision. He would give the phone away to someone who needed it, therefore saving him the trouble of the thing and also improving someone else's life.

He marched up to the young friends standing before him. One looked rather intimidating with black hair and an annoyed scowl upon her face, while the other had lovely curly blonde hair that sat upon her head. From the angle the old man stood, he couldn't see her face (or was it a 'his'?) but the movement of her shoulders seemed to indicate laughing.

He heard the black-haired woman growl "Jane" in frustration to the blonde (ah, definitely a female) who just shrugged. So the old man mustered up his courage and tapped the young woman on the shoulder. She turned around (odd looking woman, that one) and looked him in the eyes.

"This is for you. But be warned – you may have to reset it, goodness knows how. Goodbye dear."

And the old man turned around to hobble back to his apartment, leaving Patrick Jane staring in shock.


	7. Man

**A/N ****Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the reviews!**

**Man**

Jane was many things: proud, egotistical, pompous and exasperating. And in the right circumstances, he would admit to these characteristics. He was not, however, sexist or chauvinistic of women.

He strongly believed in a quote he had read many years ago, by Susan B. Anthony. She had said "No man is good enough to govern any woman without her consent." And he lived by this, whether consciously or not, every day.

It therefore infuriated him when he came across anyone who believed it was right to mistreat and take advantage of women, and he hated them for it. Hated their very soul for being so cruel, and if he had his way, Jane would teach them a permanent lesson that they would never forget.

Jane had found himself in such a situation three months ago, when he and Lisbon had questioned a couple in their home. The second that the horrible man opened his mouth to answer Lisbon's question (which had been directed at the wife) Jane knew that something was not right with this relationship. And his fears were proven right over the course of the interview.

Mr O'Brien kept a steady hand on his wife's shoulder, which tightened in warning every now and then. She also never answered questions unless directed at her, and her responses held no conviction. When more personal questions were asked, she looked fearfully at her husband, who had a short temper and little tolerance for Lisbon's curiosity. And as Mrs O'Brien had stood to get some tea for Jane, he had noticed with dread the bruises around her neck that had been previously hidden by a scarf.

Jane had followed her into the kitchen, under the ruse of helping her prepare the tea, with the real reason of determining if her husband was abusive. She had wept when he asked her, and begged Jane not to push it further lest her husband hurt her more. But Jane had held steady, refusing to turn a blind eye to the abuse and misery of her life.

After Jane declared that to her, Mrs O'Brien clammed up and would no longer even look at Jane. But as Lisbon and Jane left through the front door, he bent down to whisper in her ear.

"I will get you out of here if you want me to. You don't have to suffer anymore. Will you let me help you?"

Her husband hadn't heard the exchange, but as Jane turned to shut the door behind him, Mrs O'Brien nodded her head slightly and Jane smiled in return.

Now, after three months of steady work and appeals, Jane had finally been able to keep his promise. As he handed over to her the passport and money to start a new life with her sister interstate, Catherine (formerly Mrs O'Brien) bent up to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you for saving me from that miserable excuse of a man, Mr Jane."

And as she turned, she gave him a small smile.


	8. Track

**A/N Sorry this is a day late; it wouldn't load last night. But it's here now! Please review, it wont take long and today has been stupid and sad so any feedback would be welcome to brighten the day :) Enjoy...**

**Track**

What many people didn't realise (amongst numerous other things) was that Patrick Jane loved to run. Each morning he would rise out of bed at 6:30 if at home and head down to the running track that was located not 300m from his front door. On the increasingly numerous amount of mornings that he would wake up in the stuffy attic of the CBI, he would still make his way down to the very same track by 7am. It was a routine Jane had known for many years.

As a teenager, running had never been something he was interested in. Skinny and lank, he could never keep up with any others his age and he detested how weak it had made him feel. Jane had believed that running was just an unnecessary discomfort and that he would never feel the need to take it up. However, Angela had changed all of that.

The moment he had heard that the lovely Angela Ruskin ran every morning before she began the carnie day, Jane had made a resolution to get fit and join her. And join her he did; every morning for the rest of her life.

Jane treasured the memories of her smiling face when he declared he was simply too tired to continue, her hair on particularly hot mornings as it stuck to her face, and the exhilarated blush that spread through her cheeks after a long jog. He missed their special jogs together; he missed Angela.

It may have been a matter of pride or it may have been a reluctance to let go, but Jane continued their jog every morning, even if she wasn't there to enjoy it with him. Had had made a promise all those years ago, and he wasn't about to break it. He had too many memories invested in the past-time and it was one luxury that Jane allowed himself that had anything to do with his beloved wife.

Or at least that was the case until now.

"Lisbon? I need you to get to the track near my house now, and bring everyone," he stuttered into the phone, voice breaking in numerous areas.

"Jane? Are you ok? What's happened? Did you hurt yourself? Why are you at that track?"

Jane only had to say one thing for her to hang up the phone and contact every CBI agent she knew.

"Red John."

For in front of him on the running track lay a lady, specifically targeted because of her similar appearance to Angela. She was dead, she had been tortured, she was lying next to a smiling red symbol on the tree and she bore a note written in her own blood;

'_Memories are powerful"_


	9. Marry

**A/N I wish to apologise for the randomness of this... but I hope you enjoy it anyway!**

**Marry**

It was meant to be the perfect wedding. She had organised the church, invitations, dresses, vows, flowers, and cake… absolutely everything necessary for the perfect bonding of the perfect couple. Her alarm had gone off at 6am to ensure she had plenty of time to organise everything, and she had called every single invited guest to make sure they knew the ceremony would begin at 12pm sharp, and they were not to be late. Despite having had the bridesmaids fitted numerous times, she also made them dress 3 hours before the start of the wedding, just to be sure they hadn't put on any weight last minute that would sabotage the entire day's proceedings.

And then there was the groom. There are not even words to describe the long list of perfections she had to clarify with him (six times) before she was satisfied he wouldn't ruin her day.

All in all, her wedding was shaping up to be perfect right down to the smallest details.

Until now, that is.

The church doors opened dramatically just as the vows were about to be spoken, and Christina Fleur almost had a heart-attack at the sight disrupting her perfect wedding.

"Who are you?" She screeched loudly, her fist balling in the fabric of her dress.

"Why how pleasant to meet you too. My name is Patrick Jane, and I just have one little thing tell you, if you don't mind," a pompous man dressed in work clothes with unruly hair said, a stupid smile lazing on his face.

"What! I do mind, thank you very much," Christina panted in rage. "What are you doing here? You have no right! This is my perfect day!"

Her husband, still remaining silent, made a gesture for her to calm down but she brushed him off impatiently with a death glare.

"Excuse me ma'am. My name is Agent Lisbon from the CBI," Christina gasped. "And I am here to arrest you for the murder of Lynda Ryan. We have evidence proving that you broke into her room last night at 5pm and murdered her with a knife. You have the right to remain silent…" And on Lisbon muttered as she stalked up the aisle purposefully (Jane skipping and waving at the guests behind her) to handcuff her hands.

"I did no such thing! How would you even know something like that! Anthony!"

Anthony, seemingly confused in his groom's suite, stared after her. Jane came to stand beside him as the two walked off.

"So Anthony…when were you going to tell her that you're gay? Not that you need to now… but I'm still curious."

"I…I…I wasn't going to?"

Jane nodded thoughtfully. "Probably a good plan. Personally, I think you should be thankful that I saved you from what promised to be a dreadful marriage. Irksome lady…"

And with that, he patted Anthony (who was now smiling slightly) on the shoulder and turned to the whispering crowd.

"You're welcome!" he shouted.

Applause rang through the church.


	10. Roundabout

**A/N Back on track guys! I just want to give a really big thanks to nic73 for leaving TWO reviews! You are awesome. And just an answer to her question, we chose ten words each (random word generator) and that's really the extent of our planning. The rest just...happened. So thanks for reading, please reivew and I hope you enjoy!**

**Roundabout**

"Please Lisbon!" Jane begged as they walked towards the CBI car.

"No, Jane." She replied firmly.

"But why? You can't take this from me!" He protested in a whiney voice that made Lisbon exhale in frustration.

"Jane, I said no. Now, be quiet! You are like a child." She retorted.

"But-"

"No Jane."

There was a long silence.

"Lisbon, I regret to inform you that we are both adults here and you cannot control me. I am a free person in America and I have my right to-"

"Stop it already! I said no! _Because I regret to inform you_ that you are a consultant under my guidance, so I cannot let you embarrass the entire CBI with your childish wish! Now would you _please _be quiet. I have a headache." She wrenched open the car door and was about to climb in when Jane spoke again.

"I am not coming with you until you let me do this _one thing. _Please Lisbon!" But Lisbon had had enough and would listen to no more. She had every intention of just climbing into the car and driving off, leaving Jane to find a way back himself. However, it seemed Jane had thought this through as he dangled the keys in her view, just out of her reach.

"Jane…" She growled threateningly, annoyed at the knowing gleam in his eyes. He knew he had her cornered. She couldn't get back without the keys, and he wouldn't give them back before he had what he wanted. She sighed in exasperation.

"Fine, go. But be quick!" She snapped, watching as Jane hollered in joy before bolting back in the direction they had come from. She shook her head, thoroughly annoyed.

Jane, however, was ecstatic! He flew through the trees and rounded the corner before coming to a stop before what he had desired the most. He had begged for this for the better part of ten minutes, and finally it was his.

A roundabout playground was situated right before him.

With an excited laugh, Jane jumped onto it and grabbed the bar, whirling himself around as fast as he could go. The trees blurred together, the colours blended, and Jane couldn't remember feeling this free since… since his wife and child had been brutally murdered.

He stopped moving. He sank to his knees. He bent his head into his hands. He took a shuddering breath.

It shouldn't be him here, it should be Charlotte. It should be his daughter playing on the roundabout playground, not him.

Charlotte.


	11. Health

**A/N Enjoy today's instalment!**

**Health**

Wainwright stalked into his office angrily, slamming down the files he held in his hands promptly on his desk. He sat in the chair and swirled it around in what was meant to be intimidating and impending manner.

The other man sitting in the office was not fazed.

"You are a member of the CBI," Wainwright began, staring the man in the eyes. "I therefore am extremely disappointed that you behaved in such an inappropriate way. Punching a suspect? I would never have thought you to stoop so low."

"He deserved it," came the protest, exactly how Wainwright expected it to.

"It doesn't matter! A suspect could tie your shoelaces in a knot, flatten your tire and then spray your hair pink and I still wouldn't approve of physical violence. Now please, would you attempt to reason with me why you attacked him?"

With an exasperated sigh, the other man began to retell the story as quickly as he could.

* * *

_Jane and Cho walked over to Van Pelt, who was standing by the car park whilst interviewing the man who had come across their victim that morning. They had been warned by the local police that he was an arrogant man (to which Jane had scoffed) and not at all cooperative with the authorities. Lisbon had thought it best to send over Van Pelt to handle the initial questioning with the hope that he might be warmer to a female._

_This presumption had been wrong._

"_Why would I answer your questions, Ranga?" He asked rudely._

"_Ah, because I am a CBI agent and have the right to arrest you for being impolite? That might be a reason to consider answering my questions."_

"_Don't you dare threaten me, bimbo! Who do you think you are?" He shouted, advancing upon her. It was at this point that Cho and Jane stepped in, with the shorter of the two taking lead._

"_Excuse me, sir. I'd like to ask you to take step back from Agent Van Pelt please or I will be forced to place you under arrest," Cho said, seething at the obnoxious man's treatment of Grace._

"_God dammit! Leave me alone! What has this world come to, employing banana-men and red-haired females into law enforcement?" There was an awkward silence._

"_Do you have private health insurance?" Cho asked suddenly, confusing the man before him._

"_I, what? No, I don't but I don't see how this has anything to do with-"_

"_Good," interrupted Cho._

_He then promptly punched him in the face, much to the delight of Jane and Grace (although not so much Lisbon)._

* * *

"And that's what happened," Cho said, free of emotion to Wainwright. On the inside he was secretly pleased, although he knew his boss felt differently.

"Fine. You must now apologise to Mr Lowe, who is now in hospital, and you are suspended for three days," came the exasperated order.

"Fine. Goodbye. But know that it was worth it."


	12. Crown

**A/N I know how weird this is, but anyway. Big thanks to Abigaya Moreel for just being awesome, and thanks thetyger for changing tonight's prompt so quickly! You are awesome, as I am sure you know :)**

**Crown**

"Grace! Get down!" Rigsby shouted frantically as he saw an armed man aim his pistol towards her vulnerable frame. As if in slow motion, she whipped around and dove straight to the floor, narrowly missing the bullet that sailed past. Rigsby, furious at the attempt to take such a sweet life, quickly darted out from behind the parked car (despite Cho's protests) and aimed straight at the man's heart.

He dropped.

But Rigsby did not care about the dead body lying in the ground surrounded by a puddle of his own blood; no, his eyes were all on Grace.

"Grace, are you okay?" He said frantically as he reached her shaken frame, quickly analysing her for any obvious injury. Aside from the shaking and slight grazes on her hands, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her.

"Yeah, I am fine. Rigsby, you just saved my life. Thank you, my knight in shining armour, my king." She said weakly, trying to alleviate his worry and lighten the awkward atmosphere they suddenly found themselves in. Rigsby chuckled good-naturedly at her light teasing, helping her to her feet, while trying to avoid showing her what that praise meant to him. She had called him her _king! _A proud monster swelled inside of him, fuelling the already existent feeling of _more than friends_ that he felt every time he was near her.

_Her King!_

LINE

The rest of the day, Rigsby glowed. He did not complain when ordered to make Jane tea, nor when he groaned that it tasted like dirty dishwater, and not even when Jane demanded he make three new cups so that one may be 'alright'. He attacked his paperwork with a vigour never witnessed in the modern world, with one single mantra playing in his head the entire day.

_Her King!_

_Her King!_

_Her KING!_

Whenever he came across Grace, who was recovering from her shock in the kitchen, he gave her the largest grin and ecstatic eyes as he embraced the monster inside him. He strived on being in even the same building as the woman he loved, the woman to whom he was a king.

So it was therefore with great pride and happiness that Rigsby opened the neatly wrapped gift sitting on his desk the next morning. When he had first seen the gift, he had been slightly suspicious, but the little tag attached with the neat handwriting of _From Grace_ in the ink of a fountain pen eliminated any suspicion. He ripped it open without hesitation.

Inside the box, sitting on red velvet, was a golden crown. A _king's_ crown. With widened eyes and an eternal grin, Rigsby sat down on his chair in a daze to stare at the lovely message from his love, fantasizing about what this might mean in taking the next step in their relationship.

So engrossed was he that he missed the smug smile of Jane, planted firmly upon his face as he twirled a fountain pen with his fingers.


	13. Check

**A/N ****And here we are again…Enjoy! Also, thetyger and I had an argument today… according to her there is no such thing as personal space and it is perfectly acceptable to poke me at regular intervals. Apparently, we bicker like a married couple (which would be weird tygie, so don't get any ideas). But she scored an amazing goal in footy today which defied all physics laws…Awesome job!**

"So Jane, I need your opinion… do you think Cho has, you know, hooked up with someone recently? I mean, he is acting different – all happy and carefree. Heck, this morning, he smiled!"

Jane stared at the man before him. Yes, it would be accurate to say that Rigsby was a well-built man who had much strength and assertiveness. But it would also be correct to say that he sometimes lacked a little in the…common sense department.

Cho was standing not 10 metres away, slowly eating an apple. Or at least, he was…

"Rigsby, no, I'm not dating anyone. Why? Are you interested in going out with me?" Cho asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rigsby just gaped at him in confusion.

"No? How about you take a rain check," he retorted, striding off towards his desk in a professional manner. Truthfully, he was quite annoyed that Rigsby was trying to talk about him behind his back, but felt it best not to alert him to that fact.

Rigsby and Jane sat in silence after the quick exit, the shorter of the two slowly sipping on his tea as he watched the range of emotions flitter over his co-worker's face. It was amusing, really, to see so many thoughts so clearly etched in expression in such a short amount of time. Jane was quite entertained observing his zoned state, as even when Van Pelt walked past twice, Rigsby didn't even notice.

After a few minutes, Jane's attention span was starting to run out and he eventually broke the silence.

"Rigsby?"

"Mm?"

"Are you ok?"

Another awkward silence, and then:

"Did Cho just ask me out?"

Yes, Jane did sometimes wonder about Rigsby's common sense… and now he also worried about his ability to understand sarcasm.


	14. Amateur

**A/N Big thanks to Abigaya Moreel for everything! And by the way, thetyger physically abused me today during our favourite class. I now have invisible bruises from where she hit me with the ruler on multiple occassions. But enough of that, enjoy and review!**

**Amateur**

"Really Cho? Are you really going to make me do this?" Jane protested as they got out of the car. The two were in front of a large white house, with antique designs rimming the roof and windows.

"Yes Jane. Boss' orders," sounded the stoic reply before Cho marched off towards the front door, revealing his badge as he did so.

"But why me?"

"Because kids don't like me. That leaves you."

Awkward silence, and then:

"Fair point…"

Cho knocked on the door loudly, stepping back slightly as the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman who looked torn with grief.

"Hello ma'am. My name is Agent Cho, and this is Patrick Jane. We are here to speak to your daughter about what she may have witnessed two nights ago." The lady nodded as Cho spoke, ushering him inside before he could even finish. Looking around Jane noticed that many photographs had been hastily removed from the mantel piece, presumably any which contained the late husband of this household. There were also no personal items left anywhere to be seen, and he quickly came to the conclusion that this lady was in the second stage of grief.

"Alright then, I guess I will just go and have a chat with your daughter then?" Jane asked rhetorically, walking up the stairs before the lady could answer. The house was carpeted and long, with several bedrooms casting off the side of the main second storey hallway. It didn't take long for him to find his destination; the pink door with flowers and butterflies decorating every spare inch.

Respecting the fact that he was about to enter a females room, Jane knocked on the door. But after receiving no reply, he decided it would be ok to enter uninvited. He opened it gently, observing the room before him.

It was pink, as expected, with numerous dolls scattered on the floor. A neat bookshelf sat in the corner, with puzzles hastily packed onto the shelves. A small white bed stood in the middle of the room, covered in green sheets. But it was what was in the bed that held Jane's attention;

A little girl, no older than 7, weeping silently to herself over the loss of her father.

No words were needed, no un-meaningful apologies, and no half-hearted attempts to bribe happy feelings.

No, Jane simply walked over to the shaking girl and cradled her to his chest, comforting her in the best way possible through the inevitable grief that was wracking her body.

After all, Patrick Jane was no amateur when it came to the grief and loss of those you love.


	15. Soupier

**A/N ****Hello again everyone! I hope you are enjoying these, because they are surprisingly difficult to write. Please remember to review our stories, and enjoy this chapter! Also, thetyger ditched me today to go to a doctor's appointment. I would like to point out that she laughed at me when I expressed my concern of not making it out of the class alive if she left me. I believe her to be very cruel, after all we had a certain teacher who enjoys making us stress. His favourite line is "if you are talking, you are obviously not stressed enough. Stress more." I really don't need his encouragement… Enjoy!**

**Soupier – (yes, it's a real word that literally means 'to have the consistency of soup')**

"Well this is just a disgrace…such a terrible café…I don't even know why anyone would bother….stupid establishment…waste of space and money" And so the grumblings and mumblings, mutters and tuts, murmurs and drones and every other synonym of 'grouch' there is continued, instigated and orchestrated by none other than Patrick Jane.

Oh yes, he was undeniably unhappy, although melancholic might be a better way to describe his behaviour. Childish might even be an appropriate description, because here he sat, opposite Lisbon, in a quaint little café that was owned by a blind man and his devoted wife who worked every day despite having chronic asthma – and all the while, Jane was complaining.

"Is it really that difficult to give me a serve of eggs?" The man in question protested after Lisbon scolded his actions.

"Jane, they've already told you! They do serve eggs, in the morning from about 7-11, _for breakfast_. I hate to break it to you, but it is now _dinner._ Therefore, you cannot have eggs. But you can have any of the other 35 items on this list, if you would just choose!" Lisbon replied exasperated, disbelieving that she was having this conversation. He had literally begged her to stop at this little place, claiming that if he didn't eat soon he would drop dead right in front of her – which meant more paperwork. She had finally agreed, if only to stop his insistent groans, but she now found she rather regretted that decision. But to be honest, she should have seen it coming. Very rarely did anything go to plan when a certain blonde male was around.

"Fine. I'll have the soup – pumpkin with no beans."

"Since when has there _ever_ been beans in pumpkin soup?"

* * *

It was ten minutes until their meals arrived, and in all honesty, Lisbon found it the longest ten minutes she had ever been forced to endure. The details of such torture are too horrific to be listed here.

But finally a young waitress, nervous by their already-made reputation, brought them over a plate of lasagne and a bowl of pumpkin soup (with no beans). Lisbon kindly thanked her, as she kicked Jane in the shins for his rude grunt.

Without realising it, Lisbon held her breath as the fussy consultant raised the spoon to his mouth.

He slurped - Lisbon raised her eyebrows.

He grimaced – Lisbon winced.

He widened his eyes – Lisbon crossed her fingers.

"And?" She questioned.

"It's alright…could be soupier."

And as Patrick Jane raised the spoon once more to continue his meal (that was _not _eggs), Lisbon smiled.


	16. Quits

**A/N So I am really stressed right now, but that's ok because I have fanfic to help me (as flawed as that logic is). Thanks for reviewing everyone, and I hope you enjoy!**

**Quits**

One day, Lisbon sat down at her desk with a piece of paper, blue ball-point pen and her jumbled contemplative thoughts. For once, she was ignoring her work in favour for something personal – something unrelated (directly at least) to murders.

_What if?_

She scribbled the heading at the top of the paper, narrowing her eyes at its plain structure on the sheet. She had always detested small headings, for that completely missed the point of a heading. Grabbing a green highlighter, she rectified that problem.

It now read: _What if? _– surrounded by many little green stars.

* * *

_What if?_

_- I quit the CBI and moved to Oregon. We haven't had any particularly bad cases there, so it could be a fresh start without bad memories._

_- I could get a job in a library, a nice and serene environment where no one demands my services at every alternate moment._

_- For dinner, I would have the time to make meals, experiment with cooking a little._

_- On the weekends, actual days off, I could read or write or watch sappy sitcoms just for the sake of it._

_- If one day I felt sick, I could just have a day off without wondering if someone's life would be lost because of it._

_- I could breathe easier._

_- I would stress less._

_- I would be truly living._

* * *

"Lisbon?" Jane called, opening the door to her office without waiting for a response. He stepped in, before hastily quieting as he saw her sleeping frame leaned over the desk.

Smirking slightly, Jane considered taking a photo for blackmail purposes as she slept, completely vulnerable. But as he got closer, something made him change his mind.

The piece of paper, next to her head.

Skimming over her notes, Jane felt his smile slip away slowly, distressed at what he was reading. His skills gave him a heightened understanding of when Lisbon was stressed, but he now realised that he hadn't really understood what he saw.

Without a second thought, he walked over to gently shake Lisbon awake, ignoring her weak protests even as he made her stand and grab her jacket. Then, without any sort of explanation, Jane led Lisbon out to his car.

He would not let his friend quit.

He would not let her wallow in misery.

Jane would help Lisbon, as he always did.


	17. Bond

**A/N Hey guys, hope you enjoy this one! Sorry for its…oddness**

**Bond**

It was a confusing case, to say the least.

The team had been called to a house not far from the CBI, where a man had been murdered in his bed. He had been shot 7 times, the first being fatal, before being laid down on the couch and all the blood cleaned up around him. He was not a rich man, nor a poor one, and his house was exceptionally ordinary; ordinary couch, ordinary bed, ordinary garden and ordinary décor. However, this murder was far from ordinary.

On every spare surface, the killer had written numbers in blue texta.

On every wall, bench, table, floor space, mirror, cupboard, television and window, the same numbers had been scribbled messily: 007

"The killer must see these numbers as something significant to him; a jail number, asylum code or something that has influenced his life. It could be a signature, or it could be a message depending on his motive," Lisbon said professionally as she stared around the room speculating.

"I personally think it's pretty clear," Cho stated, standing up to stand beside his boss.

"What?"

"The numbers. It's pretty obvious as to their relevance in all of this, although why I am not sure."

Lisbon just stared at him, completely confused.

"You really don't know, do you? This guy is killing because of Bond… James Bond."


	18. Pop

**A/N Hey there. Happy Birthday to Abigaya Moreel! Enjoy everyone :)**

**Pop**

"Hello there, my name is Teresa and this is Patrick and Cho. What's your name?"

The little girl dressed in pink looked up at them from her set of toys shyly, with a small grin on her face.

"Ami," she replied quietly.

"Do you mind if we ask you some questions?" Jane said softly sitting down to play with one of the dolls nearby. Ami watched him suspiciously for a moment as he dressed the doll in a little green dress.

"Joycie – that's my doll's name – really likes you."

Jane smiled at her, as if that sentence held all the confirmation he needed.

"Do you remember if someone came into your house yesterday, when your daddy was hurt?" He questioned, continuing his mindless fiddling.

"Mmmm," she said, alternating her head from side to side.

Jane changed tactics.

"Maybe Joycie saw something? Do you think you could ask her for me? She knows you better."

Ami seemed happier at this prospect, and quickly went ahead with questioning her doll as Jane gave it to her.

"She says yes. A man, the post person she thinks, came inside and told Joycie to go upstairs. Joycie didn't come out for a long time, but then she got hungry and went downstairs. Joycie saw Daddy sleeping on the ground, but he was hurt, so she called the police."

Jane smiled sadly. "Thanks Ami, Joycie. You've helped me heaps. Teresa and I are going to go and talk to your Mum now, ok? Cho will stay here with you," He said, standing up and leaving Cho alone with the young girl.

It had seemed like a harmless suggestion, but Cho soon regretted ever staying behind.

Ami started to cry.

She cried and wailed loudly, clearly upset at being left alone with someone as confronting as Cho. And no matter what he tried, she wouldn't quiet.

"How about I sing a song for you? Yeah? Ok umm…

**"Up and down the City road, in and out the Eagle -  
That's the way the money goes - Pop! goes the weasel".**

But this just made things worse, and it was in desperation that Cho finally escaped downstairs, calling Jane to come up to her bedroom in such a way that her mother wasn't alarmed. Jane followed dutifully, a small smug smile etched upon his face. As he opened the door and saw the sight before him, Jane turned to Cho in mock disappointment.

"Really Cho? Really? I leave you alone for five minutes…"

And with that, he picked up the wailing child and comforted her into silence within thirty seconds.


	19. Fancy

**A/N Hello everyone, just thought I would let you know that this weekend has been completely amazing... therefore this prompt is kind of happy. Enjoy! P.S I love you all, and I am feeling really sappy at the moment, so just go with it.**

**Fancy**

"Jane," Lisbon whined, dragging her feet behind her. "You _know_ I hate it when you go all fancy on me! Why are we even doing this?" Jane smiled at her discomfort, not giving up on his destination.

"Just give it a chance, Lisbon!" Jane admonished, pushing her into his car gently but with enough force to show assertion. To his relief, she put up no further fight and stepped in.

"I still don't understand why you are doing this to me! You call me at 8 in the evening, order me to get dressed in my nicest clothes, and then drag me out of my warm bedroom into your car. And the only thing you will tell me is 'it's a fancy outing'."

Jane merely grinned, privately smug at the entire thing. He too was dressed neatly, favouring a different suit to normal. But it was the excitement of the surprise that really had Jane happy.

Lisbon huffed at his silent treatment, deciding to do the same. But that idea changed when they pulled up in front of a beautiful restaurant, called _Teresa_.

"Jane!" She gasped softly, touched by the sentiment behind his action. Lisbon had not even known this place existed, but as she walked up to its doors she vehemently decided that it was the most exquisite place she had ever seen.

The roof was lined in old Victorian décor, with the windows baring the marks of age. But the red velvet carpet extended to the outside of the building, creating a red carpet experience mingled with time. Lisbon loved it.

"Why did you do this for me, Jane? It's gorgeous, but too much!"

Jane ignored her protests, pushing open the doors.

"Surprise!" Rang the sound of three other voices, and as Lisbon blushed she noticed the entire place was empty except for her team; her family.

"Happy Birthday Lisbon," Jane whispered.

**Yay! Happiness! Please review and add to this bowl of optimism!**


	20. Worry

**A./N Hey there everyone! Thanks heaps for the reviews, they mean a lot to me! This is the last of the prompts for now, but if you have any words you would like us to do, just PM one of us or leave it in a review, and when we have a collection, this story will be updated again. I love you all and enjoy1**

**Worry**

"For crying out loud Lisbon! You are such a worry-wart! I will be _fine,_" insisted Jane, continuing his mutterings of "irksome... hover...annoying," as he walked alongside his boss.

"Quit complaining," she admonished, glaring at him fiercely. "I was just insisting that you keep a safe distance, because you are not armed, and not wearing any protective gear. It's for your own good, Mr Danger-Magnet."

Jane ignored her warnings with a dramatic flick of his hand, before exaggerating his action of sitting in the furthest corner of the room he had been confined to. Lisbon, ignoring his smart-aleck intent, nodded in appraisal before taking her post outside the door.

"3,2,1..go," Rigsby whispered, and with a loud bang and lengthy shouting of words, the entire team (except Jane) raced into the dining area, weapons raised.

As far as Jane could tell, there wasn't anything particularly interesting happening, and within five minutes the drug dealers and suspected murderers were led out of the room in handcuffs. Lisbon met Jane's eyes, warning him to stay indoors while she organised those she led, and he acquiesced without complaint.

Noting a large bottle of alcohol sitting on the table, Jane decided after a minute of further alone-time that he deserved a reward for his patience. It was, after all, an exceptional task to be forced into solidity with the expectation of no entertainment, a task which Jane felt was too large for him. So he poured a small drop of the alcohol, and raised it to his lips happily.

The world went black.

* * *

The next time Jane opened his eyes, he was met with a fierce white light and an angry set of eyes staring down at him. Completely confused and aware of his blinding headache, Jane attempted to simply go back to sleep.

Lisbon, however, was having none of that.

"Jane!" she growled. "I told you to be careful! So what do you do? Drink alcohol found in a drug dealers house, then collapse and nearly put yourself into a coma from poisoning! You are _never _coming to an arrest again, no matter how many chocolates you bribe me with!"

Jane simply smiled, still too confused to really understand, but undeniably amused at her angry lecture. But his eyes were too heavy to hold open, and his mind was overtaken by clouds to the point that his conscious was screaming in fatigue.

He fell asleep to the thought of chocolate.


End file.
